San Fernando, Trinidad, was our first port of call.

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 128.  

San Fernando, Trinidad, was our first port of call. After a radiantly beautiful dawn—most of us were up early to greet our first landfall—the weather clouded over, much to my disappointment and surprise. I had never before been to the tropics, where I had somehow always imagined that the sun shone all day, every day. In the afternoon we went ashore, wearing our white tropical uniforms for the first time, carrying in our pockets the two statutory condoms without which no man was allowed to leave the ship—and were instantly overwhelmed by the local hospitality. That day and for the rest of the cruise, it seemed that in the entire Caribbean there was not one institution, one club, one family even, that did not open its doors to the English sailors. The only problem was the rum. From the moment we landed it was poured down our throats—sometimes in the form of planter’s punch, sometimes mixed with Coca-Cola, sometimes neat in a tumbler, but always in industrial quantities. For those who preferred not to be privately entertained, downtown San Fernando—where the Navy’s arrival was a cause for celebration for any number of reasons—provided a particularly lethal variety at about a penny a tot, and the local girls charged very little more.